


Priceless

by SnorkleShit



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Art Theft, Costumes, Denial, Fake It Till You Make It, Faking It - Freeform, M/M, Masks, Minor Character Death, Mourning, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Paris - Freeform, Point Of Salvation Memories, Pretending To Be Okay, holiday Gift, magical art stealing yay, repressed feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-05-10 15:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5591860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnorkleShit/pseuds/SnorkleShit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake's dad finally dies, and he tries to go on as if everything is fine so nobody will know. Ezekiel remembers what happened in the video game loop, but is pretending it isn't ripping him apart.</p><p>When someone starts stealing valuable art by magical means, they're sent alone together on the mission, when tensions are highest. </p><p>To make matters worse, they're both kinda secretly in love with each other. Will these idiots ever get anything figured out?</p><p>[previously named All The World's A Stage]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. there's a scream inside we all try to hide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wordsbysydney (sydkang)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydkang/gifts).



> I was drunk and it didn't mean a thing  
> Stop thinking about  
> The bullets from my mouth  
> I love the things you hate about yourself  
> Just finished a daydream  
> Who were you tryna be?
> 
> No one wants you when you have no heart and  
> I'm sitting pretty in my brand new scars and  
> You'll never know if you don't ever try again  
> So let's try
> 
> \- Hallelujah by Panic!At The Disco
> 
> THIS IS A (BELATED) HOLIDAY GIFT FOR MY FRIEND SYDNEY, SHE'S SO GREAT! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT FRIEND sorry it took so long oops

“ _It happened Monday night. Real sudden like. Got your cousins and your uncle over here, working through his stuff and figuring out the funeral arrangements. They asked me to call you, thought it would be best if you heard it from me._ ” Joe’s voice came over the phone like a riptide, softly and unexpectedly pulling Jake into a vast darkness. He felt his throat swallow, but his mouth was drier than the Sahara desert. He would know, he'd been there.

To Joe, his half brother, it must have sounded like there was a beat of drawn out silence. But Jacob’s ears were full of noise, full of curses and yelling and disappointed mutters. His world was suddenly drowned in the memories of angry slurs and drunken fists, and all the things that weren’t shameful seemed to pale in comparison. The whole world felt like it was falling away.

“Jake? Look, man, I know this is a lot to take in. You probably need some time. Do you...wanna, uh, talk about it?” Joe asked, the tone and diction of his voice betraying the fact that _talking about it_ was the last thing he wanted to do. Luckily, it was also the last thing Jake wanted to do.

“No. I’ll call you back later. I’ve gotta, uh, go to work.” He managed to get out, voice rough. Joe nodded, bid his Southern farewell, and the line went dead. Jake set his phone on his kitchen counter, his hand trembling as he did. Then he used that same hand to lean against the counter, feeling sick to his stomach and dizzy. As if he was spinning out of control, disconnected from reality.

His father was dead. The stubborn old bastard had finally drank himself under the table for good.

Alcohol poisoning. Isaac Stone was never gonna go any other way, was he? At least he died how he lived.

 _Drunk, angry, and thinking his son is a worthless failure? Sounds about right._ A voice in his head retorted bitterly. This felt unreal and all too real all at once. He scrubbed his hands over his face, and took a deep breath.

\-----------------------

Ezekiel bolted up in a flail, a cry ripping from his lips as he struggling against the hands attacking him, ripping at him, the rage people growling at him and his friends screaming for help--

Silence.

He was in bed. There were no hands, only his blankets, and the pale light of the moon through his apartment window. Nobody was screaming, nobody was dying.  
_Except for you._ A sinister thought spoke up. He flopped back in bed, groaning. He didn’t have to look at the clock to know he had only gotten a few hours of sleep. Restless, nightmare ridden sleep, at that. That’s the way it had been ever since the video game...incident.

He hadn’t _completely_ lied to the others. He really didn’t remember, at least, he didn’t remember the very last loop. That was the one that hadn’t saved, the one he hadn’t reached the save point in. He remembered everything else. He wished he didn’t, so he let the others think he didn’t. After all, it wasn’t directly lying if he never actually said anything to confirm it directly?

It didn’t matter, anyways. It wasn’t that big of a deal, just because he got them through the loop...that didn’t make him a hero. He wasn’t the hero, he was the irresponsible, genius, handsome thief. Out for himself, riding life like a wave, searching for the next thrill.

He’d get through this bout of sleeplessness, and be back to himself in no time, the others didn’t have to know about something as trivial as this. He was Ezekiel Jones, he didn’t lose to some dumb nightmares.

 _Is it the nightmares that don’t matter, or is it you?_ asked his mind, but he ignored it as he swung his legs over the bed, shoving the covers away. He better go make some ridiculously strong coffee and shove some cans of Red Bull into his bag, and then he might as well get to the Annex. No reason this couldn’t be a good day, just because he had a lousy night.

\--------------

“Ah, Mr. Jones. Isn’t it rather early to be...doing whatever it is you do?” Jenkins asked, leaning against the doorway. Ezekiel spun around in his computer chair in surprise. Jenkins usually didn’t come by their HQ - the little part of the Library that Cassandra, Jake and him had picked out and set up as their own. It was a large room, with each of them having their own section.

Ezekiel and Jake’s sections actually took up the most space, since half of what Cassandra needed for her stuff was in the Lab next door, that Flynn and Jenkins had helped her build. Cassandra had a desk with some computers, littered with a lot of books and random little devices, papers and notes neatly organized and a kitten screensaver floating on her monitor, framed by two purple lava lamps a few random artifacts or knickknacks.

Jake’s part of the room had it’s own specific lighting and a bunch of tables and bookcases. All over the tables were restoration and examination utensils for art and artifacts, and semi messy piles of notes and ancient transcripts in languages Ezekiel had never heard of.

As for Ezekiel, he had a curved wall of monitors and tech surrounding him, with some of the highest grade parts and software money could buy. Not that he’d bought it. It was like something straight out of a movie, and it was all his. It was bloody awesome, even Jake and Cassandra said so. Jenkins found it distasteful, but Ezekiel was fairly sure that Jenkins found everything distasteful.

Ezekiel leaned back in his chair, and popped the bubble of gum he’d been blowing. Jenkins made a face, and Ezekiel smiled.

“This bad boy set up I’ve got isn’t all work and no play, Jenkins. The gaming power is absolutely surreal.” He shrugged. Jenkins hummed in agreement, eyes flicking over his monitors and then over him.

“I don’t see any gaming being done. I do, however, spy some research being done on the use of magical substances in drugs.” Jenkins pointed out. Ezekiel blinked, glancing behind him and then back at Jenkins across the room.

“You can read that from there?” He asked in disbelief. Jenkins huffed, tapping his temple.

“Just because I’m ancient doesn’t mean I still don’t have 20/20 vision, Mr. Jones. And a rather sharp intuition. I wager you haven’t played many games at all, in the past month or so.” Jenkins said, looking like he knew something Ezekiel didn’t. He hated that look, and he sure didn’t like that tone.

“Are you kidding? I’ve beaten all of Dragon Age and Fallout for the ninth time, and a friend of mine just sent me to the demo to an independent game out of Melbourne. It’s great, the graphics are on par for an independent studio and the storyline beats most RPGS these days. The best part is the combination of first person shooter and tower defense within the--” He started, but Jenkins held up a hand and made another face, as if he’d smelled something rotten. Ezekiel kept his face neutral, but he couldn’t help but worry Jenkins knew he was lying. Well, he wasn’t _lying_ \- he really had beaten those games nine times, and he had played a demo given to him by an old acquaintance for feedback. He just hadn’t actually...done them in the two months, like he was implying. Still wasn’t a lie.

“A friend, you say? Well, I’ll take your word for it then. Do carry on with what you were doing, the others should be around shortly. Eve has something she wants to discuss with you in particular at today’s meeting, I believe.” Jenkins said primly, turning and walking down the hall. Ezekiel’s face fell, and he groaned as he spun back around in his chair and flopped his head onto the desk in front of him. Just great, that sounded like it was going to be _lots_ of fun.

Ezekiel sighed as he sat back up, reaching into his satchel for his fourth Red Bull that morning.

\-----------------------------------

 

Ezekiel wasn’t as invested in the symbology as Jenkins and Flynn, but he had to admit he did like their new round table in the annex. The center was covered in papers, artifacts, the clippings book, and other books, while the outside remained pretty clear for them to set things down. Ezekiel usually sat between Jake and Cassandra, who took turns reprimanding him for trying to put his feet up on the table from time to time.

“Alright, folks. Flynn and I have been gone all week, give me the scoop. Ezekiel, how’s that research on drugs and magical substances going?” Eve asked, folding her hands and looking at him expectantly. He sat straighter in his chair, ready to reply, when a two sounds rang out that made everyone stop. Jake reached to pull his miniature clippings book out of his pocket, and Ezekiel pulled his phone out of his. They looked at each other, then at everyone else.

“It’s just you, then. What’s it say?” Flynn asked, gesturing expectantly. Ezekiel clicked on the app, and Jake flipped to the newest page. Ezekiel was a slightly slower reader, apparently, because Jake gasped in horror before Ezekiel even got past the first line on his.

“Someone’s been stealing art!” Jake exclaiming, eyes flicking intensely over the articles.

“What’s the big deal, that’s not really new.” Cassandra asked, craning over Ezekiel’s shoulder to read along with him.

“Because this isn’t just valuable stuff, this is- this is priceless. Somebody broke into the Louvre.” Ezekiel replied, raising his eyes. Flynn made a spluttering sound.

“How the hell could somebody pull that off? Interpol and half the authorities in Europe should be all over that, why would-” He pondered.

“Because it’s by magical means. According to this, a series of doors that weren’t there before were found leading from the outside to the rooms of interest- they took the god damn Mona Lisa! How-” Jake’s face was turning red.

“Oh, don’t worry, that’s a fake. The real one is in the Library.” Flynn said casually, waving his hand towards the Back Door. Jake stared up at him, processing that for a minute.

“The Library planted a fake? Are the rest of the artifacts and art in the Louvre fake too?” He asked. Flynn shook his head.

“No, just a few across the world that are too magically important to be left out there, even in places like the Louvre.’ He explained.

“Wait, the Mona Lisa is magical?” Cassandra asked in surprise. Ezekiel held up a hand.

“That doesn’t matter. If the Library planted a fake it’s probably the best forgery magically possible, right?” Ezekiel said. Jenkins nodded.

“It’s practically the same, just without any of the magic.” The immortal replied. Jake started to rub his temples.

“Well, then it’s basically the same value, to the world and to the thieves. If they’re this good, stealing things like this with who knows what kind of magic, then their smart. They’re gonna fence things, sell some stuff, but they’re gonna sit on some stuff like the Mona Lisa for a long time, till it all dies down, hide it until it’s safe to sell it to the highest bidder. These people are geniuses, crooks, with magical resources, and they’re in for the long haul. I doubt this is going to be the only thing they do, with this kind of magic they’re not gonna stop with the stuff from the Louvre. Greed like that doesn’t die down.” Ezekiel explained. Everyone considered that for a moment.

“Well, then it’s settled. You and Stone will go, and catch these magical super thieves, and get the stuff back before they can sell or hide it, or steal anymore. Go to Paris, get all the info you can, trace the clues, figure out what magic they’re using. Report back, here, we’ll plan from there.” Eve announced with authority, standing up. Jake and Ezekiel both blinked at each other, then looked at each other, then whipped to look back at her.

“Just us? Together?” Jake exclaimed in protest. Eve raised an eyebrow.

“Art and magical theft, that’s your specialties. It was your clippings books that rang, not anyone else's. The Library wants you too on this first. If you need back up, we’re here. You’ve worked in a trio, alone, and as a group, why not a duo? Have fun, call us if you need us!” She said, her words like magic making everyone else stand up and turn to go back to their own business. Ezekiel swallowed thickly, and tried to give Jake a casual, unaffected smile. In reality, he was freaking out.

Going alone with the person he’d been struggling not to have a giant crush on to _Paris_? After everything else that he was trying to pretend he wasn’t going through?

 

It was official. The universe must hate him.


	2. investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mystery thickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOUNDTRACK: http://8tracks.com/snorkletuckington/i-love-the-things-you-hate-about-yourself

“I thought it would smell more like bread.” Ezekiel commented, as they came through the back door on a random Paris street. Jake shot him a glare at his ignorant comment, before turning to investigate what street they were on and figure out where they were in the city from there.

“This is one of the greatest and most historically significant cities in the entire world and all you think about is bread. You’re remarkably cultured.” Jake huffed. 

“A country is only as good as it’s food, in my opinion. And it’s party scenes.” Ezekiel drawled, shrugging as he followed Jake around the corner. Jake shot him another glare.

“There’s so much wrong with that statement i’m just going to pretend I didn’t even hear it. Let’s just get this over with.” Jake snapped, not a hint of banter in his voice. Pure annoyance, with a sharp edge. Ezekiel felt slightly wounded, but didn’t let it show. Normally, pushing his buttons made him made and frustrated, but it was more...it wasn’t like this. What was up Jake’s ass?

Ezekiel looked around them as they walked, letting Jake take the lead since he had been here before.

Oh. Right. He’d been here before. When that woman...Ezekiel swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. Jake was probably remembering his dead lightning rod girlfriend. No wonder being in Paris would put him in a bad mood. Especially being in Paris with Ezekiel, who was probably Jake’s least favorite person. 

Which Ezekiel understood, no matter how much it made his heart ache. He knew who he was and he knew who he let everyone think he was. There was no reason he should expect anything different. People as amazing as Cassandra and Jake…

_I’m not your friend, but you’re all my friends._

He knew what he was and what he acted like. He shouldn't cry over the spilled milk of a situation that was never going to change. At least, was never going to change for the better.

\-----------------------

 

“This place is _crawling_ with agents from like three different organizations, how are we supposed to get in there and investigate the crime scene? I seriously doubt the librarians cover is going to work this time.” Jake whispered in an aside to the other man, as they stood with the rest of the curious civilians, a ways away from the Louvre behind a police barrier. Ezekiel had his hands in his pockets and was obnoxiously chewing bubblegum, and didn’t reply or even look at Jake for a moment. Then he loudly popped the gum, and spit it on the ground. Jake shriveled his face in disgust and was going to say something, but Ezekiel was spinning away from him and walking in the opposite direction. Jake hurried after him, casting confused glances between his partner and the direction they where _supposed_ to be going in.

“Jones, what the hell - where are you going?” Jake demanded when he caught up to him, pushing through the crowd slightly. Ezekiel winked at him.

“I have a plan, but it’s going to need a change of clothes for both of us. You’ve been to Paris, where’s the nearest place to buy some nice suits?” He asked.

“How would I know where to get a suit? I only came here sight seeing once, and have you seen the way I dress? Wait, why do you need a suit?” Jake asked, as they walked down the cobbled sidewalk, dodging Parisians on their way to work and wide eyed tourists with cheap cameras.

“ _We_ need to suit up, Cowboy. Agents on official, non-undercover business have expectations to meet.” Ezekiel said aloofly.

“ _Agents?_ ”

\----------------

“Everytime I put these on I remember why I don’t wear them.” Jake muttered to Ezekiel was they walked on their way back to the Louvre, pulling at the well fitted suit. “Not to mention you bought this with a credit card I’m pretty sure wasn’t yours. Whose was it, Jenkins’?” Jake asked, vice tinged with accusation.

“It was Flynn’s, actually.” Ezekiel replied, looking far too good for words in his own outfit. He has pushed his hair back out of his eyes into an uncharacteristically dull style, and had told Jake to do the same. Jake’s eyes widened.

“Wha- Flynn’s? You didn’t--”

“Shhh, forget about that. Shoulders back, head up, and look like you’re better than everyone around you and have no emotions.” Ezekiel hissed suddenly, as they approached the police barrier. Jake hesitated for a minute, wanting to carry out with his outrage. But they were here for a job and Ezekiel’s plan was probably their best bet, he had to admit. So he tried to do as he was told, standing up straighter and attempting to figure out what not having emotions looked like. 

Ezekiel had adopted the look instantly, and it looked almost natural on him. Just like every other facade did. He was a lot more experienced at looking like something he wasn’t. As much as that drove Jake crazy, he had to admit, it might come in handy in this situation.

Following Ezekiel, the crowd practically parted for him, and they pushed right through the two nearest barriers and walked towards a huddle of other men in uniforms and suits. A man with a bald head and stern eyes approached them with two other large uniformed men, and held up a hand to halt them.

“Qui êtes-vous? C'est une scène de crime. Quelle organisation appartenez-vous?” The man demanded. Shit, Ezekiel didn’t know French, he hadn’t thought this part through, Jake would have to--

“ _Agent, à partir de l'Jones Ézéchiel INTERPOL. Le didn't vous obtenez l'appel?_ ” Ezekiel replied, in near fluent French, but still with the tinge of his own accent. Jake stared at him, forgetting the situation around them, absolutely blown away. Since when did Ezekiel speak French? And then, to surprise Jake even more, Ezekiel reached into his jacket and pulled out a badge. An _INTERPOL_ badge, with his face on it.

The men seemed to take this as legit, and they were lead inside, and the situation was explained to them. 

“I thought you were in the MI6, not INTERPOL, what the hell is with the badge? And since when do you speak French so well?” Jake hissed to his partner as they entered the Louvre. Ezekiel kept looking ahead, not even looking over at him as he replied.

“It’s a fake, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I have a few tricks up my sleeve, get over it and focus.” Ezekiel hissed, a little put off by what a bad mood Jake was in. Even though he knew it was for a perfectly good reason. Didn’t mean it didn’t sting, though. 

They were lead through multiple groups of officers and agent and CSI groups, and through what seemed like miles of yellow tape. Ezekiel grinned to himself as he watched Jake drink in everything on the wall’s, a slight gleam returning to his eyes. Maybe all the art would get him to cheer up a little bit. But then again, they were here because Jake’s precious world of art had been desecrated. So, maybe not a lasting effect. 

Finally, they came to the room in question. Some of the most valuable pieces, their stands empty. Jake looked as if he’d been personally attacked, like he’d been wounded. He turned to the other agent and they started talking in French about the missing artifacts, where they where from, who made them, how valuable they were. Ezekiel didn’t pay attention to any of it besides the estimated prices, which he stored away in his head for later. All the stuff about the art itself was boring anyhow. Instead, he let his attention be drawn to the front of the room, where most of the yellow tape was. There were multiple people in suits with forensic equipment examining a doorway. A doorway with no door, that looked extremely out of place. And it was in line with multiple other identical doorways, leading from room to room. Standing from where he was, Ezekiel could see that down the line of open doorways, there was blue sky. The path lead right outside, through multiple random walls. Like someone had simultaneously drilled through the building to the very room they were standing in.

“That’s the real mystery of this. They must have cut in, but there’s no sawdust, and the alarms would have been tripped by attempts to tamper with the walls. The best these guys can come up with,” Jake explained, pointing the the strange doorway. “Is that they somehow hacked the security. They’ve got experts looking into it.” 

Ezekiel shook his hand, moving towards the door. “I doubt it. This was obviously magic.” He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the tunnel of doorways, earning a glare from one of the forensic workers. He texted it to Jenkins, then tucked it back into his pocket. The two of them got closer, and Ezekiel flashed his fake badge so the forensic workers would move aside to let them in.

“What have we got here?” Ezekiel asked, trying English first. Luckily, he struck right. A man with sideburns gestured to the sides of the doorway. 

“No sign of burning, just cut right out of the wall. They’re even embossed and trimmed and painted. The paint’s still wet. The weird thing is, the wiring in the walls wasn’t cut off. It was rerouted. We can’t work out how they did all that in such a short time without getting caught. Doesn’t make any sense.” The man explained, voice heavy with a russian accent.

Jake moved forward, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the paint. Then he held out a hand.

“Does anyone have a sample kit I could borrow?” He asked. A girl leaned down and pulled one out of a plastic briefcase, and handed it to him. Jake scraped some of the half dried paint off into the tube, and capped it, putting it in his pocket.

“We should uh, take this back to our people for analysis, don’t you think, Agent Jones?” Jake asked, clearing his throat. Ezekiel nodded, and followed him out. 

“I planned a heist on the Louvre once, you know. But my fence backed out so I had to deal with all that kind trouble, and never got around to it.” Ezekiel said, as they walked back past the police line and down the street. Jake just shot him a glare. Ezekiel fell silent, concern worming itself deeper into his gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, dedicated to the lovely Sydney! Sorry this is so slow updating, my main concern is my ot3 highschool au


	3. cataclysm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezekiel and Jake's investigation gets off to a rough start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this takes so long to update, Home Is Where The Heart Is is my main priority and I have a hectic life :(

“This cannot be happening.” Jake huffed.

“It’s average recon, i’ve walked you through what to do and Cassandra is dropping the surveillance equipment off. But I really think I should-” Eve said from over the phone line.

“No, no, no, Colonel Baird. They can handle it themselves. I’ve already booked them the room closest to the source of the magic we were able to trace, using the sample they brought back. I’m still trying to pin down the exact substance...it’s some sort of mineral deposit.” Jenkins explained.

Jake grimaced down at the phone in his hand. “Oh, i’m fine with running surveillance. But couldn’t me and Cassandra do it? And why in god’s name are we in a Honeymoon suite?” He exclaimed, waving his hand at the room. Cassandra grimaced at his comment, and watched as Ezekiel looked away. Why was Jake being so rude? Like, yes, the two boys didn’t get along all the time, but he was being so…Cassandra really couldn’t think of a word for it.

They were all standing at the doorway of the suite, surveillance equipment at their feet. Jenkins sighed over the phone.

“It was the only one free, stop being so childish. And you two were the ones called to this mission, you don’t need Ms. Cillian until you may need backup. Now, Ms. Cillian, return to the Annex to help me figure out what we’re dealing with.” Jenkins asked. Cassandra nodded, and turned to walk towards the door. She cast a look back, smiling supportively to Ezekiel.

“Good luck! Call me if you need me!” She said, and then she was gone. Jake and Ezekiel where left alone in the room.

“Get along, you two. I’ll check in at 06:00 hours.” Eve instructed, and then the line went dead. Ezekiel looked up at Jake, to say something, but Jake turned his back on Ezekiel. The art historian crossed his arms angrily and walked all the way across the room to the window, peeking out.

“Bullshit.” he muttered to himself, but it was loud enough for Ezekiel to hear. His blood started to boil, just like it always did when he was with the other man. He balled his hands into fists.

“Oi, mate, what’s your fucking problem? I haven’t done anything worth this stick up your ass!” He called angrily. Jake whirled around, stance rigid and eyes blazing.

“You’re my fucking problem. The last place on Earth I wanna be is in Paris right now, and the last person I want to be with is you!” He spat. It felt like a stab to the heart. One he’d already pierced himself with a thousand times. He knew Jake hated him. He knew Jake would never want to be anything other than coworkers, if that reluctantly. Not really friends. And never anything more. Jake deserved better than him anyways, the whole Library deserved better than him. That was just the truth. But this? This was just….ridiculous.

“We just have to work together, you can hate me all you want, but keep it to yourself.” Ezekiel snapped, choosing anger over pain. Little did he know, Jake was choosing the same.

“Something we agree on.” Jake muttered under his breath, turning back to the window. He felt a bit bad about saying it - he didn’t hate Ezekiel. Probably the opposite. But Ezekiel hated him, and didn’t really care about the Library at all, so it was easier. It was easier to hate what you weren’t allowed to love.

Ezekiel huffed, and headed down the hall to the bathroom. When he came back, Jake was already most of the way done setting up the survey equipment. He was struggling to screw the head of a piece on, and Ezekiel moved forward, reaching out his hands.

“Here, let me-” He started to say, but then Jake quite literally slapped his hand away.

“I don’t need your help!.” He said harshly, then finished screwing the piece on with a scowl on his face. Ezekiel stared at him for a moment, face screwing up. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Ezekiel muttered. Jake’s head snapped up to glare at him.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He demanded, with an edge to his tone. It was almost scary, the anger in the man’s eyes. All directed at Ezekiel.

“It means, like father like son, asshole. I don’t have to be here, I don’t have to help you!” He exclaimed. Jake’s face turned nearly red, and he stepped aside the survey tripod, moving to shove Ezekiel back by the shoulders.

“Leave then. That’s all you’re fucking good at anyways. We all know you’ll bail one day.” Jake sneered. Ezekiel stumbled back, affronted by the push. Then he straightened his back, and returned the shove. Jake was too rigid to even budge.

“You don’t know anything about me!” Ezekiel exclaimed in increasing fury.

“That’s what you’d like, isn’t it? Be the big mystery. The big ball of negative space. Some grand, unattainable level of awesomeness above everybody else. Never have to be responsible for anything other than a one sided identity that’s so easy to get by on without getting close to anyone. Well guess what, Ezekiel Jones. You’re surrounded by people that figure out mysteries like breathing. And you’re no big one. The truth is that you’re just empty. And nobody fucking cares. And nobody ever will.” Jake shouted, voice cutting through the air and Ezekiel like a razor. He was stunned for a moment, hurt, angry, shocked all at once. He chose, of course, the only appropriate emotion to allow out. He gritted his teeth and let hot rage burn at his heart instead of letting it drown in misery and the oblivion behind his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up.” Came his words, but only in a breathless whisper. Then his voice grew stronger, braver, more reckless. “Shut the fuck up, you self righteous fucking piece of work. You’re only fucking bitter because I know who I am, and you fucking don’t! You’re nothing but a fucking liar who takes out his problems on everybody else. Why don’t you do everyone a favor and drink instead, just like that old man of yours!” Ezekiel shouted back, hoping his words would be just as biting.

But, he didn’t know that Isaac Stone had recently taken one drink too many. He didn’t know that the hurricane in his heart was matched nearly by that within Jake’s mind. He couldn’t know just how harsh his own words where. If he had, even he wouldn’t have said such a thing. Just as Jake wouldn’t be saying what he was if he knew the whole story, if he knew why the pages of Ezekiel’s book where all ripped out.

But the lack of knowledge is ignorance, and ignorance is the first half of the downfall of man.

Jake’s hurricane traveled down his arm, and pressurized in the curl of his fingers against his palm. Before he knew it, it cracked out like lightning and slammed like thunder into the side of Ezekiel’s face.

The second half of the downfall of man was surely emotion, the explosion of chemicals that could not be rationalized or controlled.

Ezekiel stumbled back, ears ringing as pain exploded across his features. Then he slowly turned his head to look back at the other man, as he reached to press a shaking hand to the heat of inflaming skin. That heat sparked a fire in the eye of the storm, and Ezekiel’s heart gave a heave of trepidatious remorse before it broke, like the crust of the earth, letting magma flow out and scorch all life in all directions. Not that much life lived in the landscape of what one might call Ezekiel’s soul. It was a tragically barren landscape, that much Jake had gotten right, that much Ezekiel could not deny. Covered in trinkets and bobbles of golden pride. But even gold cannot withstand lava and the heat of a grieving earth.

Ezekiel gathered up that heat and let it drive him forward, to return to punch. Jake dodged it - he was better at this, after all. Ezekiel kicked at his shin instead, and he doubled over with a curse. In that process of doubling over, his shoulder knocked into one of the legs of the tripod, causing it to teeter. Ezekiel’s eyes widened and he dove forward to catch it before it crashed into the floor. He succeeded, and remained frozen for a moment, clutching the equipment awkwardly. Jake slowly straightened, and he was staring down at his feet, looking like he was going to throw up. Ezekiel stared at him, half confused, half waiting for another attack. Jake looked insanely nauseous - which was strange, Ezekiel hadn’t punched him in the stomach.

They had argued and disagreed a lot, and even gotten in each other’s faces, but it had never devolved to violence. Jake finally looked over at him, and his features betrayed it’s own earth shattering remorse. His eyes were drawn to Ezekiel’s cheek, and the thief supposed a bruise must be starting to form. Like a pattern eroded from the earth by the elements, slow and quick all at once.

“I-” Jake seemed at a loss for words. Not an uncommon occurrence. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t…” He looked like he’d seen a ghost. Ezekiel would know, he saw one every time he looked in the mirror. Ezekiel slowly stood, setting the tripod back up and steadying it.

“What? Going to say you didn’t mean it?” Ezekiel asked, voice uncharacteristically cold. He moved forward, drawn forward into the tension between them like gravity demanded him to. Jake did not move, he seemed frozen. Ezekiel felt the darkness behind his eyes and beneath his ribs shudder. Jake didn’t reply, staring at him with something akin to fear as he got closer, and closer.

“Because it sure felt like you did.” Ezekiel said, almost softly. Like it was some wonderful fact, some eureka too good to be exclaimed. To perfect to be allowed to be seen by anyone other than them. Ezekiel was suddenly hungry, he suddenly ached. For the pounding of his own heart, he had felt it, felt his own blood pump when Jake had hit him. It seemed so long since he felt that real, that alive.

“I bet that’s what you want to do all the time. Shut me up. Make me stop whatever it is I do that makes you so angry. But no, you’re the perfect american gentlemen. You only hit someone who deserves it.” Ezekiel huffed as he craned up into Jake’s face. Mockingly, with an air of confrontation.

“No, I don’t-” Jake started to say, eyes wide, but Ezekiel cut him off.

“I deserve it, trust me. You think you’re the first? You think you’ll be the last?” Ezekiel suddenly felt pressure rising in his throat. “You’re such a good person, aren’t you? You can’t stand to feel things like a normal human being, you have to be the perfect son. The perfect Librarian. The perfect image of whatever someone wants to see, and you tell me i’m the fake? I’m the fraud?” Ezekiel was hushed, but his voice resonated around the room. “You really want to hurt me, don’t you?”

“No.” Jake replied. Ezekiel felt tightness pull at his lungs.

“You want to hit me again, don’t you? Make me stop talking all the time. Make me stop being so honest. As honest as you wish you could be.” Ezekiel accused, a little louder. Red eyes and snarling drew themselves across the backdrop of his mind. Blood, blood, everywhere. Cassandra cried so loudly, it pierced his ears more than the teeth and nails of the rage people. But it was almost always Jake who was the first to go, down with a fight and a half and a cry of perfect bravery.

“No, I don’t. I never-” Jake started to shake his head, and began to back away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He said earnestly, almost panicking.

“But you did! You must want to hurt me, deep down, you just can’t admit it!” Ezekiel exclaimed, throwing his arms out. “Don’t feel bad. It’s just the way things are. It’s the way I want things.”

“What? No! I didn’t- what is that supposed to mean? Do you want me to hurt you?” Jake exclaimed, getting more alarmed and confused by the second.

“Maybe I do!” Ezekiel laughed, because laughing seemed easier. “That would sure make a lot of sense. I must want it.” He said, shrugging and smiling widely, because god it would be such an easy answer. He had spent his whole life begging the darkness to give him reasoning, because he was a Librarian. Librarians needed to understand.

“I don’t. I don’t want to hurt you, I didn’t-” Jake started to say very firmly, waving his hands between them as if to dissipate a cloud of smoke pouring from Ezekiel’s eyes.

“But you did!” Ezekiel snapped. Jake curled his fingers back into his palms, and allowed himself to let the heaviest piece of truth rise to the surface.

“I’m the one I want to hurt!” He suddenly exclaimed, putting a stop to Ezekiel’s approach. They had walked themselves backwards slowly, and were now near the door. Ezekiel was now looking at him in confusion, as compared to his previous expression of unhinged surety.

“What?” Ezekiel asked. Jake swallowed. He had to set this straight, he wasn’t his father, he couldn’t be, he couldn’t let Ezekiel think he was. Ezekiel could hate him, but he would be doing it for the right reasons.

“You - you remind me so much of myself, and I can’t - i’m just so angry and I didn’t mean to, I didn’t, I don’t want to hurt you, it just hurts so bad and I felt like punching a mirror. Shit, i’m sorry, i’m really sorry, I know i’m being a dick. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re doing everything right and i’m just - I’m the one who should leave. I’ll go and i’ll tell Cassandra to come instead.” Jake said, voice pained. He’d never hated himself as much as he did right now, and he turned his back on the confused looking Australian.

Ezekiel didn’t stop him from leaving.

**Author's Note:**

> Home Is Where The Heart Is is my current priority, so this might be a bit slow to update. But it's not going to be very long, so maybe not. I hope you like it Sydney!
> 
> NOTE: If anyone's wondering, it is confirmed in the first Librarian movie (The Librarian and The Quest For The Spear) that the Mona Lisa in the Louvre is actually a fake, and that the real Mona Lisa is in the Library.
> 
> Come see me at queerseth.tumblr.com!
> 
> (this is unbetaed, sorry for any mistakes!)


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